


Il diavolo rosa

by irisdouglasiana



Series: Le carnaval des animaux [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, no flamingos or nonnas were harmed in the making of this story, showdown of the century, well not seriously anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That’s when Nonna sees it: the great yellow eye, staring malevolently back at her, unblinking. The curved beak. The unnaturally long, thin legs. The feathers. </p><p>The devil in pink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Il diavolo rosa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheColdestGinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheColdestGinger/gifts), [truth_renowned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/gifts).



Nonna is suspicious from the moment Joseph pulls the car around and says he’s taking her dress shopping—he _never_ does that; she’s always taken care of clothes shopping for both of them—but then he pouts and whines and says, “C’mon, it’s your birthday! Can’t you see I wanna get you something nice; you always complain how I never do nothing for you,” etc., etc., etc. And so she tells him, “If you want to do something nice for me you can pick your dirty clothes off the floor and put them in the hamper where they belong,” but she gets in the car anyway to shut him up.

She knows for certain that something is awry when Joseph turns off the main road and starts driving west towards Malibu. She folds her arms and refuses to look at him.

“Aww, Nonna, don’t be like that,” Joseph says, but then he laughs at her and she doubles down.

“Take me home this instant,” she demands as they pull up to the mansion.

Instead, he opens the car door for her with a grand gesture. He kisses her hand and her heart softens just slightly. “Nonna, please. Let me do something nice for you.”

She takes his elbow and walks with him to the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flash of pink—yet when she turns her head, nothing is there. It gives her a slightly queasy feeling, but she forgets all about it when the door opens. Her heart sinks at the sight of the decorations, the table full of food and drink, and the lewd marble statue in the main foyer (somebody has thoughtfully draped a sheet over the offensive parts). _A surprise party. God help me._

But then again, Joseph looks so eager for her approval and he’s the one with the car keys, so she doesn’t have much of a choice. She recognizes the host, a little mustached weasel of a man, and she remembers the man with the crutch and the nasty woman who visited the restaurant a few months ago. Even though she has no intention of getting to know these people, Joseph introduces her to the others—a tall thin man and a redheaded woman and a blond fellow. The latter looks about as thrilled as Nonna feels about this entire business.

She does have to admit that the cake is quite good. Joseph certainly didn’t skimp on the food—though the lasagna, naturally, is inferior to her own. Otherwise, there’s not much for her to do except sit around. It’s not like she has anything to talk about with these strange friends of his, and she finds herself wishing they had actually gone dress shopping instead.

Somehow, she ends up on the couch opposite from that nasty woman and the man with the crutch. They’re sitting so close together, the woman is practically in his lap. The man gives Nonna a weak smile—to think she had served him spaghetti, once! She stares them down and watches in satisfaction as they look at each other guiltily and scoot a few inches apart. She crosses her arms and slowly shakes her head; she certainly doesn’t want them to think they’re off the hook now.

Joseph plops down beside her and throws an arm around her shoulder. His face is flushed and she can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I love you, Nonna!” he bellows. Then he frowns. “You’re not having a good time?”

She pats his cheek and manages a smile. Satisfied, he gives her a kiss and wanders back in the general direction of the liquor cabinet.

For all of his bluster and all his faults, Joseph is a good boy at heart—since she raised him herself, how could he be otherwise? But he’s sensitive and his feelings will be hurt if she tells him she wants to leave so soon. Besides, he’s having fun with his friends, the liquor is flowing, and he won’t be in any state to drive her home anyway. With all these bedrooms, though, she imagines it won’t be too much trouble for Joseph to spend the night and get a ride home in the morning. No, better if she slips out quietly. It’s been a few years, but she figures she still remembers how to hotwire a car. (Whether she remembers how to _drive_ is a different question.)

As she expects, nobody seems to pay much attention as she gets up and heads down the hall towards the bathroom. But instead of turning into the restroom, she takes a side door out onto the porch and follows the stairs down to where Joseph parked the car. The doors are locked and the windows rolled all the way up, so Nonna pulls out a hairpin and gets to work. Her lock picking skills are bit rusty and it takes a few minutes, but she’s just about got it—and then she hears an odd chittering sound directly to her left. She freezes and turns slowly.

That’s when she sees it. The great yellow eye, staring malevolently back at her, unblinking. The curved beak. The unnaturally long, thin legs. The feathers.

“The devil in pink,” Nonna whispers. She drops the hairpin and makes the sign of the cross.

She starts to go for the small knife she keeps hidden in her garter sheath, but before she can reach it, the creature puffs out its feathers, lowers its head, and charges. She’s crouching at an awkward angle and it knocks her onto her back. It pecks viciously at her hair and it’s all she can do to shield her face. Finally she manages to land a kick. The creature falls back, giving Nonna enough time to get to her feet and grab the knife.

She and the creature circle each other slowly. It sticks out its neck and hisses at her. “In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,” Nonna begins, “begone, impure spirit—”  

This time, she’s prepared when the creature rushes at her. She swiftly sidesteps and then lunges forward and tackles it. It squawks and thrashes around in an attempt to get away, but Nonna has a firm grip around its neck. As she raises the knife, the thought suddenly occurs to her: would this strange bird be an acceptable substitute for chicken? Only one way to know for sure…

She’s about to bring the knife down when someone grabs her arm from behind and pulls her away. The creature scrambles to its feet and runs off squawking.

Joseph wrests the knife from her hand. “Nonna, what the hell are you doing?”

“That thing attacked me first,” she insists. Now the rest of Joseph’s friends have joined them on the lawn. She points at the nasty woman. “It’s her! She sent it to harm me. See, I knew it all along; it _was_ the malocchio, and you didn’t listen to me.” Nonna pulls out the packet of salt she keeps in her purse for exactly this sort of occasion and starts sprinkling it on the lawn while muttering prayers.

“What’s she saying?” the nasty woman asks Joseph.

“You’re still the devil, and so is that bird.”

The blond fellow almost chokes. He catches Nonna’s eye and mouths _thank you_.

The bird is now well over fifty feet away, no longer running. Joseph pulls out his gun. “You want I should kill it for you, Nonna?”

“No!” their host exclaims. “That’s it, party’s over. Jarvis, go catch Bernard. Nobody else lays a finger on my flamingo.”

“Fine. We’re going home.” Joseph holsters his weapon. He gives a double take when he notices the open car door. “Oh, Jesus Christ. Nonna, you broke into my car?”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” she reminds him loftily as she gets in the passenger seat. “I raised you better than that.”

Joseph doesn’t talk during the ride home and it concerns her a little because normally she can never get him to shut up. He finally speaks as he pulls up in front of the house and turns off the ignition. “Have a good birthday, Nonna?” Then he breaks down laughing until tears start running down his cheeks.

She refuses to dignify that with a response and settles for glaring at him instead.

He just laughs harder.

* * *

_One week later…_

“Really? This is what you made me drive out to Malibu for?” Joseph sighs.

“Quiet,” Nonna snaps, scanning the vast expanse of lawn until she sees a spot of pink. “Take me over there.”

He drives closer, but she catches him rolling his eyes as he opens the car door for her. “Who are you rolling your eyes at?”

He looks down. “Sorry, Nonna.”

“Hmmm.” She’s not even looking at Joseph. All her attention is focused on the creature.

From across the lawn, the creature raises its head to stare at them. It fluffs out its feathers and tilts its head at her, but it doesn’t charge. She almost feels pity for it—really, it’s not the creature’s fault that it’s so hideous. Still, she has her knife ready, just in case. (She was sure to bring a bigger one this time. And extra salt.) She approaches slowly and stops about ten feet away from the bird. It doesn’t run away; it just stares at her with those yellow eyes, unafraid.

It may be very wicked and it certainly is the ugliest thing she’s ever seen, but Nonna recognizes a worthy opponent when she sees one. She gives it a small nod, and it bows its head in return. “Let’s go, Joseph.”

“What, that’s it? You wanted to come all this way to look at a stupid bird and now you want to go home?”

That’s exactly it. “Yes.”

“Okay. We gonna do this every week or what?”

Nonna shrugs.

* * *

_Two weeks later…_     

“I don’t like it,” Joseph declares, folding his arms. “This is a bad combination.”

“Yeah, well, it makes me nervous too,” Howard answers. “You think she’s fattening him up?”

Joseph doesn’t think so, but he’s honestly not sure what to make of this development. He leans on the porch railing and watches as Nonna tosses shrimp and anchovies to Bernard, who gobbles them up greedily. She’s close enough that she could reach out and touch the bird if she wanted. Then he sees her smile—a real, genuine smile—and he shakes his head ruefully.

 _Well. No harm, no fowl_ …

**Author's Note:**

> malocchio=evil eye
> 
> Halfway through, I realized Joseph probably wouldn't be partying it up with a bunch of feds, but oh well. Indulge me.
> 
> Big thanks to inkdust for double checking my google translate Italian, and to Paeonia for advice and super helpful information on Italian superstitions!
> 
> For TheColdestGinger, who didn't realize she needed this in her life, and for truth_renowned, for the title inspiration (and just because).


End file.
